My Darkest Night
by wontgrowsup32
Summary: EPOV for parts of New Moon he's hiding from himself in someone's spare roomattic when he gets a vistor who helps put things in perspective 1st fanfic please r&r much appreciated story much better than the summary ps i dont own any of this so dont sue me
1. Chapter 1

I hadn't moved in millennia. My lips hadn't uttered a syllable in decades. My mind hasn't been able to configure a rational thought in a life time.

I didn't know much. I knew I was huddled in the corner of an abandoned bedroom in some multiple-family home. I was distantly aware of the commencing of another regular day in a struggling Latin home.

On some impulse, my eyes slowly wandered around the room. It was particularly … grotesque. There were several broken bottles of liquor littering the sheet less bed and cracked night stand. The stains on the wall were dingy yellow, obvious remnants of tobacco smoke. My eyes, always cautious to not too brutally disrupt my fragile existence, carefully drifted to the ground, where I saw littering the ground scattered cocaine grains.

And of course, my vague thoughts were suddenly sharp in focus; they were directed toward … her.

She was always present of course, always in my thoughts – the gentle blush creeping up her loving face, the exact shape of her full lips when she smiled, the intense emotion in her eyes and the deep wisdom present there that was forever hidden from me – but those were memories. The only source of my every comfort and every pain, the only thing of my past that I truly cherished and, at the same time, wished to be able to take back.

But this was different. An urgent voice in the back of my head told me, "This is important, snap out of your morose remembrances and pay attention."

I sat up slightly straighter and forced my numb mind to work faster because just as I was sitting here, hidden in some strangers destroyed bedroom, she was some where too. And I had no idea how she was.

I didn't know which would be a worse truth: her wallowing in self hate and agonizingly clear hindsight identical to me or her having no … disturbance over my leaving.

I knew the latter was what I really wanted and frantically _needed_, but I knew that wasn't necessarily the case. She could be some where, in a place relative to my surroundings, but she could be the one _destroying_ the room, not pondering how it came to its sorry state. She could be the _doing_ the drugs, not looking at empty pill canisters and abandoned substances, pitying the poor soul who had needed them.

If those same pharmaceuticals had any affect of my disgusting solid frame, I would have sought out there solace a long time ago, but the thought of Bella – my body shuddered at the intense, stabbing pain I felt shock my system of consciously thinking her name and I had to repress the cry of strangled agony that accompanied it – _Bella _having to resort to that was … nearly too much to bear.

I had left to protect her, from all of the forces trying to hurt her and from myself. I had left, not to bask in the warm glow that was this torture, but so she could have a chance to walk in the sun, to have a first real kiss, to have children and be the adoring mother I knew she would be, to grow old, and to be _human_. I left so she could lead a good life and then when her time came, she could … die.

Much as I had convinced myself I could protect her and I didn't have to leave her, that we could be happy, I knew there was no point in even thinking that I would be able to willingly hold her hand and watch her leave me forever. I knew that, no matter what, I wouldn't be able to kiss her one last time and watch her draw her last breath.

I would change her; there was no other way around it.

If she was – I could hear my audible gulp – dying, there is no question in my mind of what would follow. Because the thought of her leaving me forever had been the thing that I was terrified the most of the moment I realized I loved her. The mental image of her eyes staring back at me, blank and lifeless, was the worst thought my mind could muster next to the knowledge that I was the cause of murdering them that way.

Yet, for all I knew, she could be there all ready. She could be cringing in a corner; drugs pumping threw her divine blood. She could be dying.

I was so distracted by my despairing thoughts that I was not aware of a small frame gingerly mounting the rotting steps to where I sat, until the thin door was swung open and I was face to with a pair of wide, brown eyes, silently boring into mine.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I 3 you guys!!! Mwahaha (it is my evil laugh), 5 reviews when I expected zero! I really appreciate all the feedback so keep it coming (p.s. I love constructive criticism so thank you Not That Girl). **

**By the way, I'm going to continue this story, even if the reviews stop coming or they tell me how bad I butchered Edward. I completely understand if you guys want to come at me with pitchforks, but HA that's why you don't know where I live. :P**

**Also, sorry ahead of time if this story depresses you, this is just how I think Edward would feel. I'm not emo either; I'm quite a perpetually happy person.**

**Again, I apologize for the extremely long authors note; I'm just really excited at the moment.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its fantabulous characters, but hey, neither do **_**you**_** unless you are Stephenie Meyer, in which case, I LOVE YOU!!**

Chapter 2

I was so stupefied from the initial shock of looking into another person's eyes and seeing them looking back, that I allowed myself to hope.

For one millisecond, my mind was thoroughly convinced that it was _her._ The shape of their jaw lines where nearly identical, the dark hue of their hair blatantly similar in the eerie darkness of the overcast morning, but what had my mind reeling were those eyes.

Her eyes were the same rich chocolate, that in their dusky shadewere still some how bright. They had the same wide, over flowingly round shape that made nearly perfect circles when they were enlarged with shock.

But they lacked the deepness that I had grown to cherish, the nearly childlike curiosity and vast knowledge that was always present there. These looked … overtly shallow, like staring into tightly compact earth, not bubbling molasses. There no warmth in these orbs and certainly no depth.

I felt a harsh stabbing in my chest as I frantically roamed my eyes over the dainty figure a few feet from where I sat. Because it had to be her. And it wasn't.

In another fraction of a second, I took in all of the differences. This girl looked to be in her late teens, but still, somehow, growing. She had subtle curves painted along her slim torso and she was roughly five feet six inches tall. Her figure reminded me distantly of Esme, but she stood more erect; carried herself with a much more confident and authoritative posture than my gentle adoptive mother.

Her complexion was smooth in texture and a creamy mocha in color, but faint lines already had begun to etch her youthful face, like she had seen too many tragedies in her diminutive years.

Her lips were very present on her face and were formed in small O, but were one shade darker than her skin and one less from her hair.

Only a slightly wide nose and high cheekbones configured the rest of her features with her angular chin currently only slightly jutted outward in defense.

I presumed that she had a pleasant enough face to look at, but she was no where even close to the beauty of my Bella. There was only enough similarity in the two to completely crush my chest and long for a different face, for different eyes to peer into.

Those were the physical contrasts, but, given a decent amount of time, I could come up with several varying reasons for the differences through my denial. What indefinitely finalized my analysis were the gentle Spanish cadences I heard in her nearly frozen mind.

_Muy bonito…__¿_**_de dónde _**_él_**_ es? _**_So beautiful…where did he come from?_ She finally forced out.

Then, suddenly alert and slightly panicked, her eyes narrowed into a penetrating glare and, sharply inhaling a deep breath, I could see she was preparing to scream.

"No." I quickly whispered, not quite able to place why I was wasting the effort of trying to stop her when I deciphered from her stance and demeanor that she would probably still scream, merely to defy me, the corpselike stranger. "_Please_."

Again, I was surprised at both her and my reactions. I should have jumped to the open window, a mere three feet away as soon as I saw her in the doorway. Yet, I had stayed.

Maybe it was my subconscious, longing for more pain. Possibly, I hoped to be accused of my wrong doings, even if it was only from this fragile, human child. Even if my only crime, to her, was to be shuddering in her decrepit home when I had committed crimes of so worse magnitude. Maybe it was a different longing, a wanting to be around another person, so as to better picture the one being I needed to see.

I wasn't completely convinced of either of these two theories, so I decided to weigh her reaction, as I had not heard her cry out.

I was as surprised as a man wishing every moment to die could be.** (A/n: from now on, let's just pretend her thoughts are in Spanish and Edward is translating, shall we?)**

_So much pain in his voice. Maybe he's sick…_and I saw my scene through her mind: the illegal substances littering the ground, the broken furniture, my terrifyingly ragged appearance. It was only then that I noticed how opaque the black irises of my eyes were. I needed to get away from this innocent bystander soon before she approached any closer and my heightened-senses could breathe in her scent, but I couldn't seem to will my muscles into action. She took a step closer.

"Hello."

**A/n: Sorry, I just couldn't pass up the chance for another cliffy. Love it? Review and I'll love you! Hate it? Bring on the flames, I wanna feel the burn (again, I am NOT emo, just desperate for reviews). Oh, I forgot to mention before. It seems that there is a similar fic out there by the name of "Darkest Night" and it appears to be about the same idea, all though I wouldn't because I only read the summary. So, if you have any ideas for new and improved titles, I'm all ears. Just stick it into the review I know you're just itching to write (hint, hint). ) love you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ok, sorry to everyone who read my first two chapters, I know I took awhile to update. Just been a little bit busy lately, but I told myself that if I didn't update soon I never would. In conjunction with that, if you guys want me to update sooner, reviews help me remember I'm not just writing this fic for myself anymore. **

**Oh, and all my thanks to Not That Girl, ilubga, craziexmaddy, TheTeenageAmnesiac, forgotten twilight, and Gabriel Wolfe for telling me to continue. You guys are the best.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its fantabulous characters, but hey, neither do **_**you**_** unless you are Stephenie Meyer, in which case, I LOVE YOU!!**

Chapter 3

Previously: _She took a step closer._

"_Hello."_

I didn't respond. I couldn't seem to find a handle on my functions anymore and simply continued to stare forward in my immobility.

I could, on the other hand, hear the silent distress in her mind by my lack of sheer presence and the blankness of my face, though _her_ face also showed no signs of anything related to the panic that was seeping through her.

She was utterly terrified that something was wrong with me; I believed I kept on catching her repeating "too late", but the words were so soft and indistinct, I couldn't be sure if that was what she was really pondering. I only knew it was a repeating phrase, like her own small mantra that not even a mind reader could elucidate.

There was something else, though. I wasn't fully receiving what that something was, as she refused to commit to any of the jumbled happenings in her head. I was getting some fragments of it though, like when Alice was especially excited, but vehemently refused for her plans to be anything other than a surprise.

I was puzzled at the lack of sensation at the name. I normally felt an extreme sense of loss and yearning when ever I thought of any of them, but I was so engaged with the mystery of this youth, I was momentarily distracted from my misery.

Most of her recollections were still images, a frantic collage of what appeared to be random phantasmagoria, some I recognized from this room; some from what I assumed was the rest of this house or another in similar conditions.

There was one ragged man in particular, as present in her thoughts as he was vague. He didn't have any semblance of certain facial hair, but he didn't look to have shaved in a long period of time and had hard, metallic black eyes that seemed to glint with undaunted menace.

She couldn't perfectly picture the face; he was fuzzy, like an old photograph left out in the elements to age, but there was certainly a definite amount of pure … danger about his character

I was slightly taken aback by the silence of her thoughts during this period; I only saw and felt what she was remembering, but all of her senses seemed stunted.She recalled him with an overpowering malice and hatred, mingled with fear, but there was nothing concrete about any other part of it.

She, refusing to engage in her own thoughts any longer, pushed them hurriedly aside, and so decided to focus more on me.

She gently cocked her head to her right, and whispered, "_Me llamo Analida. _My name is Analida. _¿__Puedes decir a m_í_ el tuyo nombre? _Can you tell me your name?"

I quickly considered my position and the now dubbed girl, murmuring the name, "Logan."

It seemed to fit well enough; I couldn't come up with a more correlative name with my present state of mind then one meaning hollow.

"Logan," she said it slowly, careful to annunciate each word precisely. I didn't completely understand the relief I saw on her face while doing this because her mind was still scrambled and jumpy. I assumed it had something to do with my finally responding to her, giving a small reaction to her quiet pressing.

Yet, there it was again, my instincts warning me I was oblivious to something very saturnine and bereaving in her being. She almost seemed cautious of her own delicate existence; weary of pushing herself over her limits some how.

Though her posture held no fear and to any other she seemed especially self-assured while engaging a random someone who just happened to posses stunning stealth and sneak into her home, she appeared to become more and more fragile every second I looked at her. Like she was abruptly going to shatter into inumeral pieces, but refused to display any of her pain until the combustion occurred.

She cautiously took one more step closer to where I was and guardedly, but firmly, folded her legs in front of her and sat, shoulders relaxed and back tense, a few feet from where I slumped in the corner. She never once let me free from the nearly gravitational force of her eyes that only seemed to focus on me because she couldn't bear the sight of the rest of the decaying background.

She gave me a small, reassuring smile and I just barely caught her lower lip tremble infinitesimally.

"So Logan," she began "why don't you tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."

**A/n: What do you think you guys? Any good? I was kind of planning for the next chapter to be a repeat of this one only from my new character Analida's POV because I'm becoming more and more interested in her. I'm not sure if that's a good idea, though. It could be its own one shot or just one chapter in here or nothing at all if you like. So, I was thinking, since I can't read minds, you could tell me what you think in a review. Pwease. gives puppy dog eyes **


	4. Chapter 4

**I am **_**so**_** very sorry that I haven't updated in … Holy crow! It's been a whole week. Wow. I am sorry. I've been really sick and not in the writing mood, but I promise I'll pick up the pace and have longer chapters to make up for lost time.**

**This is dedicated to all my reviewers whom I love.**

**Disclaimer: Jeez. Do we really have to go through this **_**again**_**? I don't own Twilight or any of its fantabulous characters, but hey, neither do **_**you**_** unless you are Stephenie Meyer, in which case, I LOVE YOU!!**

Chapter 4

Again, I was caught in a total numbness of my body. What the hell was I supposed to tell her? _Well Lida, may I call you Lida? I am a vampire. Yes a vampire, you know the kind that "Vants to suck your blood!" Yes, that's correct and well; I fell in love with a human. Not any human, no, a human who's blood smells so flawless and purely … edible, that every second I come with in several yards of her I am literally in physical pain in my restraint to not suck her dry. I left so that my family nor could I ever have another chance to hurt her. By the way, you're a little to close. For your own self preservation, I am going to have to ask you to slide a few feet back … perfect. So, any questions?_

I'm sure that would have gone over splendidly.

"I don't know where to start," I answered honestly.

She gave me an easy, reassuring smile, like she was having second thoughts about the promise she just made to compare her past with mine, like she had just had an identical thought as mine.

"How about you start at the beginning? Tell me about your mother, Logan." I felt a smile play around the edges of my lips as hers widened in synchronization at her joke. It seemed almost natural with this girl; we seemed to have a kinship, not even minuscule fraction to the passion I held for Bella, but nearly a love like Alice or Esme; like a family.

Once again, my instincts bellowed at me that I may not want to know what she was going to tell me, that I couldn't handle anymore grief, even if it was only empathy with this stranger. Even as I thought stranger, I knew that wasn't the correct term to call this. It was excruciatingly uncanny how similar we both seemed, how very lonely.

"My parents," I mused, "Hmm. Well which ones do you want to hear about first?"

Only a hint of shock betrayed her expression at the latter part of my rather blunt statement. Still slightly confused, she murmured, "The first ones of course."

I laughed. I abruptly stopped, cutting off the voice. It certainly didn't _sound_ like a laugh. That trill was … disturbing. It came out more like a cry then I had thought it would have. It had broken in the middle of its utterance, like the noise itself couldn't bear to hear its hollow reverberations any longer. Blatant hysteria engulfed the cry; it had come out much more manic than I had intended.

I had never heard anything more broken in my entire life excluding the final pleas of my darling before I left her. As I felt the flashback slowly creep to the surface, I pulled my knees even tighter to my chest, simultaneously slamming my head into them with my hands tightly grasped to my hair, threatening to pull it out by its roots. The combined force of my head and my knees, moving in opposing directions to collide, at a rate that created a crushing screech of a car pile-up, forced me back to the reality of having an innocent present.

I heard a silent prayer drift its way through Analida's head as she automatically flinched backward. When it was finished, she whispered in a voice that no human ears could have caught, "I am so sorry," and slowly inched her way back to her former distance.

"No, I am the sorry one, you have no idea what sorry is!" I snapped with an acute acid in my tone and a glare that shocked even me. As the pain and fear quietly transfigured her formally soft face, she brought a hand up to her cheek like I had just struck her.

Slowly this time, I brought my forehead downward until it made firm contact with my legs and proceeded to curse myself with _deep_ inner hatred. Why do I continue to hurt _everyone_ I care about? Why can't I make it stop, why can't _I_ just stop being? Why, _why_ can't I just _die_?!? With that I felt my body begin to quake as tearless sobs heaved through my core. And, damn it, why couldn't I cry and get any release from this agony?

It hadn't occurred to me that these words had not stayed safely tucked away in my head, which in their conviction of self loathing had sprung themselves free from my mouth. It hadn't occurred to me until I felt a small hand rub soothing circles on my shoulder and whisper, "Well before you decide to "just stop", why don't you tell me a little about yourself so I can give a proper eulogy at your funeral?"

I looked into her eyes. They held no lingering maliciousness from my former outburst at her, just a slight pain there from sharing in my suffering.

As gently as I possibly could, I took her hand and placed it next to its twin in her lap, imploring her to understand with my eyes how I could not bear the physical contact and sliding roughly a foot to side. It wasn't until I had stopped and made to begin to speak again, that my eyes darted back to her hands. As I pondered it, they had felt wrong in my own, slightly deformed, and I saw the scars twined along her fingers, all of her fingers, and parts of her palms too.

She saw the many questions in my eyes and smiled again in understanding.

"You first, remember?"

I was about to protest, but eventually decided against it; she didn't seem like the type of person who could take no for an answer.

"My first parents are very vague in my memory," I looked away from her to the opposite wall, straining to remember as I could feel my eyes start to glaze slightly. "They died when I was very young and I can't recall very much from the earlier years of my life. I can only remember the simple things: the smell of cologne in my father's office or the melody of a lullaby my mother used to use to sing me asleep; things of that nature."

"And your second parents?" she asked doubtfully. I brought my vision back to her suddenly engaged gaze.

"My _adoptive_ parents took me in soon afterward," I could nearly see the light bulb flicker on in her eyes and the embarrassment as she almost blushed at my obvious conclusion.

"Oh," she simply stated. She assumed I would continue, but I patiently waited for her to ask a question. I was in _no _hurry to speed this along. Because I knew what was coming. Soon, I would have to discuss _her_; I would have to say her name out loud, describe her, and as masochistic I may be by simply taking myself away from heaven on earth, I wasn't especially eager for this new type of torture.

"And what about them?" she inquired curiously and I didn't quite understand her new thoughts. She was silently begging me to depict Esme and Carlisle as horrid, insane abusers who were responsible for twisting me into this kind of pain. She was willingly all of this despondency to be about them, even though her intuition told her that was a lie.

"I love my parents and entire family. They have always supported me and forgiven me for every wrong I have ever done," I declared frankly. And they had. Even though all of them had forcibly argued against our leaving (except one individual), they had. They accompanied me when realized I needed not wanted for…change to occur.

She nodded weakly in reply and I saw her struggle to regain her composure; she knew just as well as I did what was to follow in our conversation. A meager smile formed on her trembling lips.

"Can you tell me about her?" she breathed. I could feel my body immediately solidify.

"I don't understand." She gave another comforting smile and appeared to brace herself.

Her marred hand motioned to one side of her chest and then cautiously rested it on mine, "I can recognize a fellow broken heart when I see one."

**A/n: Ok. It's finally done. I am working on the second chapter right now. Please review. Please, please do. I'll give you candy. Ok, maybe I won't, but that should not hinder you from pressing that little purple button and typing a few words.**


	5. Chapter 5 part one

**A/n: Still typing, I'm actually writing two chapters in a day. That's a first. This might not be posted until tomorrow though because it has to be perfect and I take forever to edit as it is. My reviewers are love and while I may not have any candy to give you, I hope this chapter with suffice.**

**Disclaimer: Jeez. Do we really have to go through this **_**again**_**? I don't own Twilight or any of its fantabulous characters, but hey, neither do **_**you**_** unless you are Stephenie Meyer, in which case, I LOVE YOU!! **

**Ha!!! But I do own my Analida (I am not sure if this is a real name, but I recently decided my future daughter [if I have one when I am older, I am not pregnant Amelia! should be named it. If you don't like that, I can't stop you from referring her as some other name in your mind, but I still own Miss What's Her Face in your head.)**

Chapter 5 (Part One)

Previously: _"Can you tell me about __**her**__?" she breathed. I could feel my body immediately solidify._

"_I don't understand." She gave another comforting smile and appeared to brace herself._

_Her marred hand motioned to one side of her chest and then cautiously rested it on mine, "I can recognize a fellow broken heart when I see one."_

I turned my attention back to the molding wall.

I had no idea how I was going to do this, let alone survive the amount of pain I knew would bury me as soon as I began to speak.

Her intuition flared again, chiding if she hoped to get any amount of usable information out of my numbed mind, she would have to guide me.

"What is her name?" she asked tentatively.

I didn't respond. I was too busy frantically searching my body for some expanse of strength that I knew I didn't have. I couldn't even say her name aloud for Christ's sake, let alone all the abounding feelings and memories that accompanied its vocalization.

"Oh," she exclaimed quietly, mistaking my unabridged silence. "Or … or should I say _was_ her name?"

That caught me off guard and my chest's hollow ache amplified. I idly wondered how my upper body still managed to throb when I was so entirely empty inside. What stung the most from her statement was the fact that I couldn't truthfully validate or contradict it. For all I knew, she could be … No, I didn't fully believe that. If she was … gone, I would have felt it, some change, some deeper sense of loss. No matter how flimsy my argument, I still grasped tightly onto it with both hands.

"Is," I mouthed. I couldn't seem to push the air out of my lungs just yet so my mouth went through the motions of forming the words, but never uttered an actual noise. She understood nevertheless, and I heard her sigh of relief. I took a deep breath that I knew could provide no remedy to the impending torment and shuddered helplessly.

"Her name is … _Bella_." I had done reasonably well in spite of myself until I got to that damn B. I heard my voice break twice in that single christening, as did Lida **( a/n: pronounced LEE-da, ok?)**.

While I had lied for my name, I couldn't lie when it came to _hers_. Bella was the embodiment of her name: most beautiful.

As slowly as I could allow, I crushed my face into my hands and denied the urge to totter back and forth and give physical definition to the way my head felt. I was close to plummeting over the edge and it wouldn't have perturbed me so much if I didn't have such a breakable spectator to my left.

"Bella…" she trailed off. The way she had said it was like she was trying to taste it, trying to decide if the flavor felt right in her mouth.

"What does your Bella look like?" she inquired after a moment.

She had tried to picture us standing together, holding hands. It peeved her to no end that she had no inkling of Bella's appearance or how my face looked like when I was sincerely happy, even remotely peaceful. She suspected that if she could coax a little about her out of me, she could satisfy both wants.

She heard my gulp and turned her head toward to look into my eyes, to see maybe if the answer was there if I refused to tell her with use of my mouth.

"Bella," I could feel the burn in my throat at the saying of her name and stared into nothing.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to take the Bella ever present in my mind and amplify her. I could almost perfectly picture her standing in front of me if I wasn't in _this_ place, a place that I could never truly see my Bella, and suppressed the urge to reach out and never let go of my delusion.

"Bella is nearly as white as me, if you can believe that," I thought heard Lida laugh, but she sounded so distant, "but her hair and eyes are the real paradox. They are dark, rich mahogany, but still manage to shine. She always seemed to emit light; could irradiate this inner luminescence. No matter how atrocious a day you had, she always managed to warm you up, to thaw even the most frigid heart."

And I was no longer speaking to Analida, but to the Bella before me. I was attempting to describe her into existence, like when God created the universe, willing her to really be here. I wanted to tell her in person how much I loved her and how much I wanted to come home. And I needed to tell her just how much I wished that was enough.

"She's 5'4", a few inches shorter than you, I think, and she's always been petite. So breakable … Her facial features are opposite to the rest of her again. She has some of the fullest lips I have ever seen on such a pale frame and her cheekbones are placed high on her ethereal features. She has a heart shaped face that on any other would make her cheeks too predominate, but her eyes don't allow that.

"Those eyes …They are the kind of eyes that just seem to go on and on; I could peer into their depths forever and never get bored, always some new winsomeness to behold. She's a giant contraindication I guess.

"She is very shy and private with her thoughts," I could feel my brow furrow in past frustration, "but her facial expressions always give away how she feels. Even after being in her presence for so long, I still have no idea as to how her mind works, only that it's enigmatic and supremely original.

"She loves with the absolute entirety of her being. She makes monumental sacrifices for the people around her and treats it with an air of normality, like it's what's to be expected, like she's nothing close to extraordinary. She forgives everyone's shortcomings and still somehow manages to find the good in you, to focus on that and make you understand how special and phenomenal you really are. That even with the bad, no matter how loathsome, you still are … good, that you still deserve to love and have it returned. Yet for all of that she treats herself indifferently and has no sense of self preservation or value.

"She couldn't lie about her favorite color even if her life depended on it and is eternally sincere. She is also one of the most stubborn people I have ever met and is a very constant person; I don't think she possesses the mentality capable of changing her opinions once they are made. She's hopelessly clumsy and has been to the ER more times than I wish to count." I laughed and I was struck by the difference from the one I heard before. This one I recognized as a sound a person makes when they are sincerely happy, not an animal when in pain.

"I'm so frustrated just thinking about her." I laughed again, but it quickly transformed into disconsolate sobs.

Lida gently slid closer to my side, rubbing my shoulder again, whispering quiet reassurances I didn't hear. After what felt like hours I slowly sat back up again and looked her straight the eye. I had to finish.

"She is the most _beautiful_ person I have ever met and has this ability to captivate people, to steal your heart, not for ransom, but to place next to her own and keep it safe. And you want her to keep it; you don't want its return from an angel. I miss her … _so much_."

**A/n: AAH! I hate this chapter. It doesn't sound right to me; I don't think I described it well enough. I had to keep reminding myself that this is killing Edward and it shouldn't be too long, that would defeat the purpose, but it was so dang hard. I'm working to finish part 2 of this chapter, then the one that I have been itching to write: Analida's story! Review please!!!**


	6. Chapter 6 Lida's Story Part one

**A/n: Sorry. I know I said I would update sooner, but midterms are coming, so I am trying to put forth some effort into my studying. Plus, every time I started, it just came out wrong, so I would end up erasing. The story is going to go in a different order than planned. Oh, by the way, don't hate Lida in this next part (you'll know what I am talking about when you read it). The all mystical and wise Batman says everything shall be revealed shortly.**

**Disclaimer: Jeez. Do we really have to go through this **_**again**_**? I don't own Twilight or any of its fantabulous characters, but hey, neither do **_**you**_** unless you are Stephenie Meyer, in which case, I LOVE YOU!! **

Chapter 6 Analida's Story Part One

Previously:_ After what felt like hours I slowly sat back up again and looked her __**(A/n: hmm, which 'her' am I talking about?)**__ straight the eye. I had to finish._

"_She is the most beautiful person I have ever met and has this ability to captivate people, to steal your heart, not for ransom, but to place next to her own and keep it safe. And you want her to keep it; you don't want its return from an angel. I miss her … so much."_

I took an unsteady breath in an attempt to calm myself, more out of the familiarity in the motion than out of need, but it wasn't working. The room was quaking in a flurry of rapid movements and I found myself wondering why there were earthquakes occurring in Brazil.

It took me a second too long to realize I was the one trembling. I focused on my hand, willing the uncooperative extremity to stop its shaking, just for one second, but it wasn't having that. If anything, it convulsed more wildly until I allowed it to limply fall to the dusty floor.

It felt like my body had reached its capacity for loss. It simply couldn't contain anymore grief, so it had released itself, little by little, through each jerked movement.

I felt something warm and consoling cover my hand with theirs.

"I am so sorry, Logan," and I noticed the subtle gleam of a silent tear in the subdued light. "I know what it's like to loose someone you love, the one who completes you. I know what it's like to watch them leave."

I stared back into her impenetrable eyes; they seemed to become more and more flocculent every minute I looked at them.

"Lida," I received a quizzical, but pleased glance at her new title.

"I left her. I left her when she wanted me to stay-" and I was cut off by her sudden tumultuous hysteria.

"What are you talking about you 'left her'? How could you! What right do you think you-?"

"ANA!" boomed a fulminating roar from the first floor. Lida's face paled into wan surprise and disgust.

"_Lo siento se__ñora_. I tripped up here. All is well, ma'am." shooting an icy glare at my shoulder. She was just as sonorous as the woman down stairs, but her voice was not as harsh; it just seemed to carry itself with persistence and force that I was quickly becoming to familiarize with.

"You can not sit right there and tell me that _you left her._" Her mind was in a tizzy again. She fluctuating between pure resentment toward me and … crumbling. She would allow a memory entryway to her conscious for one moment, and then would instantly recoil, like tender skin from flame. That precisely described her warped facial expressions: her thoughts were burning her. And, for some reason I could not justify, I needed to know why.

"Lida," she turned back in my general direction, but she suddenly could not look me in the eye.

"Lida, it's your turn," I tried to give her a small smile, but it felt wrong on my face. I still hadn't fully recovered from my little speech.

She stared at my hair for a few more moments before cautiously moving their way down to my patient gaze. Her eyes had not crystallized back to the stones I witnessed before, but now looked simply … lost. It took me off guard when she began to speak and there was a tangible tremor in her normally assured voice.

"I'll tell you mine if you promise to finish yours when I am. That's the new deal."

Suddenly, something clicked in my head. She kept on making bargains and making me pledge a vowin return. She must be accustomed to disappointment. That explained why she always seemed so reluctant to trust even the smallest covenant; she didn't want to hurt herself again.

Her voice began in a low monotone, no traceable feeling.

"I was born Analida Martine Fernando Nunez to my mother and father. I have one younger brother, but I have not seen him since … well, a long time. I grew up in a neighborhood just like this one with a handful of friends. My closest, though, were the imaginary kind," a nearly lifeless smile danced around the corner of her mouth at this. I had really underestimated this girl when I assumed she was alone. The emptiness that consumed her when she spoke of her childhood had my dead heart aching for her; what had the world done to this poor child?

"They were always there. They would play with me and dance when the screaming got too loud. The thing I remember the most clearly of those times was church."

I saw her parents through her thoughts; they seemed to barely even tolerate one another, let alone hold any amount of love. Her father drank a lot too, the bickering always commenced right at that time.

"Those sermons were the bane of my existence, but Mama always said they were important so I had to listen. She said that if we never learned, how could ever hope to receive salvation and salvation was very important. She treated it as though she wouldn't want to be the subject of neighborhood gossip from the angels that her offspring was too weak to make.

"My life continued like this until I was fifteen years old, slow yet constant. I neither loved nor was loved and I really didn't mind. That was when I meant _him_," and the man in her mind was suddenly clear, no longer a vague, fading image.

He dominated her sight and she was terrified. She cringed and quickly scrambled backward, grazing my shoulder. She yelped out of shock and the feel of my icy skin while her breathing was quickly heading toward hyperventilation.

With my mind no longer functioning with my body, my arm was quickly slung around her shoulders, stroking her ebony corkscrews of hair, and hushing soothing nothings into her ear.

I was evidently aware that this wasn't safe and her scent clouded my senses, but I could not sit idly and watch this girl abruptly break down. It was like being a spectator to your younger siblings fight in the school cafeteria; you could not just wait for them to be completely pummeled before you intervene.

And it didn't feel wrong, embracing her like this.

Before Bella, I was mortified of physical contact, even with Esme, my own mother. _She_ was the only one I ever felt comfortable enough with to let my guard down for, to allow myself to be held and relish in the peace it gave me. My family was amazed by my new found ability to hug after I had met her, especially Alice; it was her favorite past time for a few hours to unexpectedly blindside me from any and all directions in lung-compressing, bone crunching, hugs.

It didn't feel like betrayal either because I knew this didn't amount to a fraction of the feeling I had when Bella was in the same position. Also, I had the feeling she wouldn't hold this against me, in fact, I was sure she would encourage it. She was always so ready to comfort those who needed mending.

What had shocked me the most when she spoke was the fierce admiration, along with the hate in her tone, she stilled seemed so dependant to this man she appeared to loathe.

"That was the day I stopped living," she whispered as she gently freed herself from my hold and turned to sit this time directly in front of me.

**A/n: Alright, I know what you are you thinking (yes, Edward did graciously let me borrow his power for a little while) and NO this will not, I repeat, WILL NOT be a LidaxEdward story in anyway, shape or form. I do not normally encourage any fics other than BellaxEdward ones and I do not plan on writing otherwise. These two simply share similar experiences and are … helping each other cope; like confiding in your best gal pal after a big change in your life. THAT'S ALL.**

**Ok, I'm done with my rant. Now if you would please overt yours eyes to the bottom right-hand corner of this webpage and review your little fingers off (I happen to know for a fact that I have several people who have this story on alert yet are not reviewing. If you could kindly just type a few words, it would so make my day).**

**P.S. next chapter should be up tomorrow.**


	7. Chapter 7 Lida's Story Part Two

**A/n: (Sighs) this story is almost done. I have the next few chapters all mapped out and some are even written. I'll post them every couple of days and try to be consistent.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its fantabulous characters, but hey, neither do **_**you**_** unless you are Stephenie Meyer, in which case, I LOVE YOU!!**

Chapter 7 Lida's Story Part 2

Previously: _"That was the day I stopped living," she whispered as she gently freed herself from my hold and turned to sit this time directly in front of me._

Just as she opened her mouth to elaborate, I felt something vibrate in my pocket. It took me a few slow seconds to realize that I had a cell phone, let alone the fact that someone was trying to contact me. I quickly glanced down at the number. Rosalie.

I didn't want to be bombarded by Rosalie's smugness right then, so I ignored the phone and averted by gaze back to Lida. She didn't seem to have even realized that the minor disruption had occurred.

"One look, that's all it took. I had been walking further into town to pick up some rice before the _siesta_ and I saw him leaning against some stoop, alone. He smiled at me, no one had ever done that before, and on an impulse I walked across the street to meet him." While she was looking at my face, I knew she wasn't looking at me.

By now her eyes had adopted a dreamlike quality, and she was picturing the scene in her mind. It seemed so familiar to her, like this wasn't the first time she had recalled the event.

"He was so much different then anyone I had ever met. He seemed to understand what it felt like to have no one in the world," she focused in onto my eyes for the moment. "I had always painted to get me through the day. I would just sit on my porch and sketch the skyline or outline the faces I saw walking by. I showed some of my pieces to him and he told me I was talented, that I had a gift."

Her voice abruptly turned to acid, "I didn't discover until much later what his outlet for grief was."

"This became my routine for many weeks. I would go out for some errand, sometimes I would even hide or break something to get out of the house, and I would meet him at that same spot. My mother even complimented me on my newly found enthusiasm for doing my chores."

Lida was a wonderful story teller. Her voiced was hushed so we wouldn't be disturbed again, but she announced each word clearly and distinctly, allowing each sonant ring slightly in your ears.

In compliment with her luxurious voice, she created vivid mental images, but never betrayed anything further into the tale, with her voice or her mind. I quickly lamented, unsure if this was caused from a natural ability to hold attentions when she called for it or if she had more heavily barricaded those memories then the ones she was currently describing.

Her voice adopted a haunted tone and was decreased to an even more minuscule whisper, "One day, during the summer, he asked if I had anything planned for that afternoon. I laughed while I replied, 'when do ever have any plans?' I thought it was a joke. But then he grabbed hold of my hand and stared to pull me away from the street, into the dark. He asked if I wanted to go somewhere with him…"

She shuddered and stared straight into my soul, pleading with me to not ask more and I didn't. Even without her mind as a guide, it didn't take too much wit to guess what had happened. I had saved so many innocent people, men and woman alike, during a time, from violation and abuse. Now was only the second time, though, that I held any genuine remorse from stopping, the first making me so angry, I didn't dare give it voice with someone so fragile so close.

I slowly brought my hand back to hers and mumbled, "I am _so_ sorry, sweetheart." I was surprised by how naturally the endearment fell from my lips.

Yet, it had been the most effortless thing I had done in a long time; it frightened me how easily attached I was becoming to this girl. I hadn't wanted to love anyone else, even as a friend; that only could lead to more pain. What I had wanted was nothingness and I knew more would be arriving soon.

But it felt … nice to talk to someone without the burden of memories I couldn't bring myself to regret. It was too hard to be with my family, with them always bringing back memories of when I was with _her_, of when I was happy. I couldn't forget Bella even if I wanted to, and I desperately did not want to, but with several people thinking at once, recalling the most intimate details, was too much to bear.

But she was different and I was brought back to my notions of family. She was like a kindred spirit without romance, much like a sibling or best friend. We shared no experiences that were also with Bella, and that made reliving my life with her endurable in ways that it never could with Carlisle or Emmett.

"He told me he was sorry, too," she whispered with a broken half smile. "He said he would never take advantage of me like that again. He was just having a really bad day, he had felt especially desolate and he needed me.

"I didn't come back to our spot for a week after I had scampered home. My parents hadn't even noticed I had not returned, so I didn't get in any trouble. I rapidly grew terrified though, that I had lost him, that he wouldn't be there if I checked, and so I did. And he hadn't lost faith in me, he was still there, and we eventually fell back into the same routine.

"I knew something was wrong. I had been sick lately, I couldn't hold anything down, and I had terrible headaches. When I fainted one day and would not wake, my brother called Nurse Nona. We all knew she wasn't a real doctor, she was never schooled, but it was the closest thing us poor could afford as a physician." I stared back at her in horror, knowing immediately what was coming next.

"She told me I was pregnant," she murmured in a grim tone.

She looked up at me expectantly, daring me to prosecute her for what that scum had done to her. She had mistaken the pain in my face as disappointment in her sin when all I was feeling was intense fury at the wretch in her mind and overwhelming sympathy for my misfortunate companion.

What hurt above all else was how passionately she clung to him; that she so wildly needed that cad. She had never had anyone, even a true friend, so when she thought she had found someone who could relate to her, she had never looked back until it was far too late.

She seemed to register that in my expression and continued, staring at the demolished bed stand, chipping it with her finger nail.

"I tried, I tried to explain, but they wouldn't listen. When they discovered I was with child, they didn't question, they simply packed my things and told me to leave and never come back."

She wrapped her arms around her legs and placed her chin on her knees, cocooning herself as the tears began to spill over.

"My mother spit and told me I was a disgrace to the family and to God. She told me she didn't have a daughter. So I found myself, homeless and expecting, making my way to the only place I knew I was welcome. I went to the stoop."

**A/n: If you think her story is finished, you are sadly mistaken. She was only 16 when this happened, remember? And what about her hands? Hmm. We shall find out in the next installment of My Darkest Night. DuhDuhDuuuuuuh. Sorry. I heard that on a Soap Opera one time. I know you guys have to have questions. Please stick them in the review I just know you wanna write (wink wink, nudge nudge). **


	8. Chapter 8 Lida's Story Part Three

**A/n: I am so, so, sorry about the delay. I haven't been feeling well and nothing would come out right. Plus, my teachers seem to get a good kick out of giving me a test everyday for a week and a half. I'm feeling better now, though, so hopefully, another chapter will be up either tomorrow or Monday.**

Chapter 8

"_My mother spit and told me I was a disgrace to the family and to God. She told me she didn't have a daughter. So, I found myself, homeless and expecting, making my way to the only place I knew I was welcome. I went to the stoop."_

"I waited there until he showed up from the same alleyway that was the cause of all this. He was, of course, horrified. It was wishful thinking at the time, but I had _assumed_ it was because he felt genuine remorse for completely destroying any fragment of a life I had left. Looking back, though, he was probably just frustrated that he was stuck providing for me and a new child.

"He didn't want to go right away and insisted on staying, rooted in place. He was a little anxious, like he was waiting for someone or something to show up. Apparently, it never did. It took a long time, but by twilight, I had convinced him to take me somewhere, anywhere. I was pregnant after all and needed to rest for the baby.

"We eventually made it to an apartment, eight blocks down from here, and that was to be my new home. It was obscenely dirty, with almost no furniture and so much dust, the slightest blow of the wind could send you into full blown suffocation. Not a suitable place for anyone to live. The next day, I tried a full remodeling project and by the end of two weeks, I had made it mine."

I smiled at her, but she wasn't looking at me. It was a little disgruntling how alike Esme and Lida's histories seemed, but at the same time, how different people they truly were. The nearly identical stories they shared had molded their characters into nearly complete opposites.

Even after the abuse Esme faced, she was still so … soft. Quite capable of taking care of herself, but so much more mild and snug in her nature, like a cozy down comforter.

Analida … she was much more of a carefully tended flame. She was kept away from the rest of world, endlessly concealed and bonded into a mellow exterior, but on the inside, her feelings consumed her, eating away at soul until she had withered away to nothing.

Fires are always the most glorious as they die, rebellious and unflinching until they are finally crippled and consumed.

It was a heartbreaking yet enchanting sight and hauntingly familiar, watching the war of grief and determination rage inside this girl. She wanted so much to cry, but was sincerely terrified of loosing her composure; it was the only thing she had left to guard her, the only way she knew how to _be_, now. Her shattered spirit was beautiful, almost hypnotic in its state of broken despair.

I watched her frown and begin to absently tracing lines and scratches on the floor as she prepared to start again.

"That first night was … odd, but also expected, I guess. He was so rough, but I reasoned that maybe he just wasn't used to living with another person. I had yet to see or hear him speak of any family or even acquaintances, so I shrugged it off. He started coming home later and later, or sometimes, not at all and I really didn't mind. He was such a different person than I thought he was … so I stayed out of the way."

The scenes I saw in her mind made me want to vomit and punch a wall at the same time.

_She is scratching at a locked door frame, sobbing when suddenly it slams open, nearly torn off of its hinges. He stalks out; eyes blood shot and nearly foaming at the mouth. He starts to charge at her, but she moves at the last moment. He screams curses so loudly her ears ring and he quickly spins and pins her to the wall, choking her. She kicks and screams in return to no avail and he covers a grimy hand over her mouth, lowering her. "__**You**__ will never leave me, understand?" he whispers wildly in her ear. She nods weakly and he throws her against the wall one last time. She sees him hurriedly run out the door as the room fades to black._

I sat, clenching and unclenching my fists, fuming. Lida silently closed her eyes and gently shook her head back and forth, in an attempt to shake free from the remembered head pains. She carefully turned her face to look at me, her expression transformed to a blank canvas. The next thing I heard shocked much of the anger out of my system and replaced it with awe and fear.

It was obvious from our conversation; Lida was an observer. She saw things and interpreted the world based heavily on her sight. Those eyes she had, that painted pieces more vivid than a photo, and her mind that remembered in colors and shapes, hardly ever through words, they knew the second she saw my face.

_El sabe y vea. He knows and sees._

"Those days weren't so bad," she continued, trying to reassure me and herself. "I loved being pregnant."

A sweet, languid smile formed on her mouth when she recalled those months. She looked genuinely … peaceful. For the first time in her little autobiography, she had been truly content with her past.

"It was one of the most incredible things I have ever done. While most women might have been repulsed by the out come of their rape," we both froze at the word, but she started speaking again as if nothing had been said, "I was delighted."

"Well, more than delighted, actually, I was ecstatic. I adored the idea that out of something so … destructive, a miracle could be born. The biggest tragedy in your life could lead you right to the best thing that ever happened to you."

I could easily relate to that. While I had loved Carlisle and never questioned his decision to change me, I had always wished he hadn't. I despised myself, the soulless monster, and wished for nothing more than to have died in the epidemic next to my mother.

After that, I had hated Bella with a passion for tempting me with her blood; if I was doomed as a murdering beast for the rest of eternity, did I have to be tormented so in my strife to rise against my sins? And look how that turned out. That hunger had led me straight to her.

I could feel my phone vibrating again, but ignored it.

She laughed loudly and openly and I savored the sound. I hadn't heard any utterance so free and alive in a very long time.

"I can still remember the first time he kicked. I was nineteen weeks into the pregnancy and walking downstairs to get the mail. I had just taken the envelopes from the man and he was about to turn and walk away, when I just felt this pressure like a baby bird fluttering its wings inside of me. Without thinking, I grabbed the man's hand and held it to my stomach, to make sure I was really feeling that. That it was real. He just smiled and said 'may the Lord bless you and your child.'"

She had placed her hand to her torso then, willing the sensation to return, needing to feel it again, but found nothing responding to the patient probing of her abdomen. It stung to see her like that, so I asked a question, anything, to distract her.

"You said he. Is your baby a boy?"

She didn't hear me, but continued to lock me in her penetrating gaze, her disfigured fingers toying with the hem of her shirt.

"You know, right after that, I went out to buy a tape measure so I could record every night how much my baby was growing. Noticing each week how my belly subtly swelled, in steady relation to my heart," she murmured.

"Really?" I faintly whispered, scathingly aware of how close she was to falling off _her_ edge. I couldn't let her do that. Not after all of the effort she had put forth to live, to try to put it behind her and be strong. But she needed to tell her tale for any peace, for any closure.

She nodded absently and peered at the cracks inside of the window pane. It had started to rain.

"When I started to go into labor, he wasn't home and I couldn't move. It hurt too much every time I tried. Thankfully, someone had heard me screaming and had gotten help, but it was far too late to move me. I had birth in the middle of my kitchen floor, right after I had swept too. I never got to ask who that person was and thank them."

She whipped her head back around and eagerly leaned forward. There was an untamed excitement in her eyes, the blaze finally stoked into a healthy roar.

"You said Bella was your angel and Julian was mine. He looked so much like my younger brother; I hadn't realized how much I had missed him until I saw his dimpled face. He was such a beautiful child, Logan, so pure and precious, I just couldn't look away. And he was mine; there was no trace of _him_ in my baby. He was mine. I can't accurately explain the feeling you experience when you see your child, when you hold them for the first time, so I won't try. But it is the most amazing, _fulfilling_ emotion on this earth."

Her gaze was quickly extinguished of all warmth and replaced with the familiar mourning.

"I had thought he had left for good and was in total bliss with my newborn until he came back a few days later. I was … surprised. He was sober and loving, the man I remembered and maybe even loved. He came home the same time every night and we were planning on moving to an apartment in a better neighborhood. We were going to get married and try our best for Julian."

Her volume decreased to just a hush of the wind, part of the air, in words even I could barely catch, "then he got laid off. He was _furious_ and became steadily more volatile and unpredictable. We were fighting over the stupidest things and our small savings were diminishing. I decided I needed to get a job, just for a little while, just until we got back on our feet."

She paused, teeth clenched, trying to bite back the impending tears and glared challengingly at the opposite wall.

"I left that day, a Tuesday, and kissed Julian good-bye in his crib. He was eleven months old and I was planning a party for his first birth day. He looked like a slumbering angel, lying there, my every saving grace. _He_ hadn't been around for about a week, supposedly job hunting, and I paid the woman next to us to watch the baby while I was at work. I was walking home and turned the corner toward my building when I saw the smoke billowing out the windows… I ran, but I wasn't fast enough."

I wrapped my arm protectively around her small shoulders; she didn't need to continue and relive that, but she didn't stop.

"I ignored everything else and knocked down whoever was in my way. I had to get to Julian. I reached out with both hands to wrench open the doorknob when I finally got to his room and it was so hot.

"My skin was ripped off, singed to the metal, but I didn't feel it. I couldn't see anything either, there was too much smoke, and I just started screaming his name. A fireman came in before I could begin to think and carried me out, but I fought him; I needed to find my son. He didn't let me go and I passed out as we exited the building.

"I later found out the cause of the fire. He had come back and my neighbor went returned to her home. He could be quite charming when he wanted something; even if he was insane. He had pored vodka all over my little boy's room and lit a match. He had stayed there, watching the blaze ignite every part of him, including his son and his home. I –" she whimpered and clamped her eyes shut. "I really tried … and I lost him."

That was the final straw and the whimpering gave way to cries of total loss. She buried her face into my shoulder before I could see her tears and she allowed the agony to consume. I allowed my chin to rest on her crown and pulled her onto my lap, rocking back and forth, humming absently.

And I knew what she thinking. She had lost everything she ever had in that fire: her savings, her fiancé, her son, and herself. She claimed the blame for her child's death and all the curses life had inflicted upon her. She condemned herself for not being strong enough to save him, or her own mangled existence.

_I don't know who I hate more: him for doing this or myself for not stopping it._

"Don't you dare think that," I whispered into her hair without thinking.

**A/n: If you guys are wondering, he does not have a name because he is every man out there who has ever abused his partner and forced them into a dependency that is beyond sick, an addiction to what they think is love. I promise this story will get happier, be patient. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n: Sorry again. I know I have no consistency. I really am going to try harder. I was a little disappointed by the lack of feedback. I had 51 hits last chapter and only one review. Thank you so much IsabellaMarieCullen3214. I really appreciate **_**your**_** consistency. Excellent writing, by the way; you all should check her out.**

**Disclaimer: Ok. This is the last time for this story, a disclaimer for all future chapters. NO, I do not own ANY part, no matter how small, of the Twilight series and I NEVER will. Ever. I have gotten over it and so should you. While I am rambling, Stephenie Meyer is the best and should have her own day on the calendar and a statue erected in honor of her awesome-ness. I am done now.**

Chapter 9

Previously: _"Don't you dare think that," I whispered into her hair without thinking._

Her head immediately bobbed up, the lingering disrepair on her face replaced by obvious curiosity. The tears had stopped their flow, but her face was covered in a liquid sheen, allowing the soft light to reflect a perfect interpretation of her features. She looked so like a child then, eyes shining, lost in a sea of mind numbing wonders surrounding her.

_Damn it_ I thought hastily to myself and inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm myself in the heat of my own stupidity. That was the worst idea.

I had been so lost before, her scent wasn't an issue. I might have been subconsciously ignoring it, too preoccupied while drowning in my loss to notice or register the burning from the back of my throat, down to the pit of my stomach. Well, not anymore.

I gulped, trying to banish the thirst, but only felt a sensation like swallowing a mouth full of broken glass. My abdomen contracted and released repeatedly.

I took another breath, this time fully appreciating the aroma. It had a defined tang to it, like a fine imported wine or island harvest. Exotic. As daintily as I could manage, I lead my nose downward, into her hair, reveling in the feeling of excess venom now flowing over my tongue. When was the last time I hunted? Too long …

"Stop it! That tickles," she giggled and her voice brought me crashing back down to reality. What was I about to do? _You know just as well as I do what you were going to do. And you still can. She would forgive you. Hell, she would probably thank you. You are just helping her, taking away her pain. Help her Edward._

The sick monster in my head sneered, goading my teeth forward. I felt one side of my mouth turning upward and let my chin retract closer to my neck, peering under my lashes, letting my eyes smolder in a way no one could resist. Her mouth dropped open and her sigh of contentment let her breath engulfed me again.

_Beautiful …_

I leaned forward, a little lower this time, letting the rhythmic beat of her heart be my only guide to my salvation in her pulsing neck, ignoring all reason.

_Help her,_ a voice commanded. But not the monsters voice this time. Bella's beloved tones reverberated inside my head. Help her.

I froze momentarily, only to whip my head around, searching the room with my eyes. I _heard_ her. Not a memory or a day dream, but like she had spoken, like she was _here_.

I placed Lida on the lonely patch of unsoiled floor adjacent to me, minding my angel's instructions to keep her safe, and started crawling on my hands and knees, my thirst completely forgotten. It did occur to me that I most probably did not project the picture of sanity with my hurried investigation, but I couldn't help myself. I had heard her and now I needed to see her. I needed to.

At last, I peered once more under the molding bed frame and flopped down on the floor, confounded and disappointed, massaging my temples with my finger tips.

I tried to arrange my whirling thoughts as best as I could. She had spoken to me, I swear she had, but she obviously wasn't here. I decided to further analyze what she actually said. _Help her_. And she had stopped me from the horrors I was moments away from committing. _Help her_.

In helping Lida, maybe … maybe she was forcing me to help myself. I was in no way … happy or even remotely whole enough to feel happiness, I needed her for that, but I wasn't lost in the never ending slideshow of masochism I was trapped in before, just a few short hours ago. Maybe my guardian angel was continuing to protect me, even when I was no longer there to protect her. Maybe she could still love me after all; trying to tell me something.

I closed my eyes indignantly, shutting out the rest of the world. Of course she doesn't love you, you monster! You were simply looking out for yourself, like you always have. Your mind gave you the only thing it knew would stop you from taking Lida, a reflex reaction from your many years of abstaining. Don't be a fool.

"Be quiet," I whispered to the arguing halves of my mind. "Just let me be."

I allowed my head to roll to one side lazily, and glanced at the girl sitting patiently across the room. From her expression, she saw nothing abnormal with what I had just done. She hadn't the faintest comprehension of the danger she was in.

Her brow furrowed for a brief moment and then she spoke.

Well, I heard her, but she didn't make any movement with her mouth.

_She's not here, Logan_, Lida thought, smiling kindly.

I ignored her thought, trying desperately to not go down that road again, if only for this girl's safety. I would _not_ hurt her. I could not disobey my beloved, anyway. Even if she only was a delusion, I was bound to fulfill her wishes.

"You found me out," I whispered, trying to remain calm. I tried smiling in return, but I could feel the corners of my mouth quivering and the rest of my face began to crumble in its lead.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Please, don't cry," she mumbled as she tried to move closer.

My nose caught her lively scent amplifying as she approached and I put up a hand to stop her.

"I couldn't cry even I tried, so no worries there," I murmured. She already knew of my mind reading, why stop there?

She searched my face with a stupefied expression, but, opening her mouth to ask, closed it again. She shook her head, smiling in spite of her self.

_Not the time, Ana_.

She looked back up to gaze into my eyes.

"You can stop if it gets to be too much. I won't judge you," she said with a knowing glance.

I started again, in the only way I knew how.

"I have lived, for far too long a time, but my life truly began January 18, 2005. Before her, I had a family who loved me, but no one to live for. Not even myself. I hated myself and I do now too, but it was difficult when with her …She's so beautiful, she tends to make everything less worthy than herself just fade away; all your problems, all your self doubts, disappear. It's when she's gone that's the problem."

I quickly peered into her eyes and looked away again.

"I bet you can't guess which stage of Bella I'm on, can you?"

She laughed, but it abruptly died and her voice became a shallow undertone.

"Why don't you tell me about your family first? I want to hear about them."

I felt a genuine smile start to engulf my face. "Where to start?" I mused to no one in particular.

"Well, are they like you?" and anyone could have caught the heavy implications her tone suggested.

**A/n: I'm updating tomorrow. I swear. Now, if I can direct your attention to the bottom of this webpage to the **_**very**_** shiny button. You see it? Good. Now press it. Oh, c'mon! You know you want to. Peer pressure (pokes). **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/n: Ok. I lied. I finally found the time to update. I love my reviewers!! … !!! If, I came off as a whiner, I'm sorry because that isn't what I intended. I just wanted to hear what all the people reading this story thought; some feedback. I was listening to Irvine and Addicted by Kelly Clarkson and Overweight by Blue October while I was writing this chapter. Just in case you're wondering.**

Previously: _I felt a genuine smile start to engulf my face. "Where to start?" I mused to no one in particular._

"_Well, are they like you?" and anyone could have caught the heavy implications her tone suggested. _

I stared at her while she stared back, completely unforgiving. Even though I really had slim to no reservations about telling her my secrets, it was startling for a human to _guess_. On the contrary, it could have been expected. Analida and her intuitive artist's vision.

Her gaze quickly transitioned from its persistent curiosity to the former brooding sadness, something I could easily empathize with.

"Logan, I told you some things that I _never _told another living soul. If you're uncomfortable, I completely understand, but don't look at me like that. Like I'm crazy. I can't take it," she whispered from her appointed space of floor.

She was right. It really wasn't fair, after all the effort she had just made to retain her composure through her brief history, the way she had tortured and beat herself trying to keep control of all her festering emotions. She deserved to hear my story, the whole story this time, and then run away screaming like a mad woman.

I wasn't going to live through this time. It already felt like too much; my lungs felt as though they were being crushed with such force, that it was a struggle for a vampire to inhale and my throat felt swollen. My _throat._ I could feel my brow cave in and I bit absently at my lip. Trying to extract some blood that simply wasn't there. Monster I am …

"I …" and I released a heavy sigh. It didn't help and I trained my eyes to a spot on the floor completely across the room from where the girl sat. "That's just the problem."

I folded my legs into my chest and allowed my chin to rest atop of the two peaks. It was a habit I had replicated from Bella; she always assumed that enclosed position when she was nervous or reluctant. Like she was holding everything inside; like if she could only trap herself in there, hid within her own protective cocoon, when she emerged, the world might have metamorphosed into a bigger and brighter place.

I never even blinked.

_I don't understand._ She thought directly after several moments of uncomfortable silence. It was slightly disturbing, yet refreshing the way we could have genuine silence, like I'd had with … her because of all the mental walls Lida had built up.

"Let's just say you didn't confide in anything living or possessing a soul, so no worries there."

I hesitantly looked back at her and I clearly saw all the compassion and pity staining her features. It was only then that I realized how hauntingly beautiful she truly was, in a fallen angel sort of way. While she was obviously born with pleasant features, her life experiences had painted and transformed her into truly picturesque being. If her skin had been only slightly chalkier, I might have mistaken her for one of my kind.

"Is that what you really believe?" she inquired, incredulous.

I nodded mechanically and resumed my analysis of the floor.

"Yes," I replied simply and I surprised myself with the empty monotone; it didn't sound like my voice.

"And everyone in your family is … like you?"

Another nod.

"But Bella's not?"

I shook my head back and forth fervently, forcing myself to meet her gaze again. "No," I murmured unnecessarily.

"And that's why you left," she whispered, horrorstruck, but it wasn't a question this time.

She wouldn't let me go. I was stuck in the gravitation pull of her eyes. The seconds quickly lapsed to minutes as Lida analyzed my every feature and I was simply too exhausted to tune into her thoughts. Is this what tired is like?

"Do you have pictures?" she asked suddenly, and though her voice was at seemingly regular volume, compared to the dead silence along with my heightened senses, I jumped slightly at the noise.

My hands automatically made there way down to my coat and I extracted my beaten wallet; it took me a second too long to even register what I now grasped inside my fingers. I hadn't needed to use it since ... How long had I been sitting here anyway?

I looked back down at the mangled piece of leather in my hands, peering at it curiously, then, remembering its purpose, handed it to her, immediately forcing my hands to recoil from her marred, delectable skin and sliding them into my newly discovered pockets. There would be _no_ physical connection again.

I leaned back against the withered wall and watched her gingerly unfold the slip and carefully tug at the slightly protruding edges of the photos. I studied her as she quietly drew in a breath of awe as she witnessed the Cullens in all of their glory for the first time.

It was a general rule first appointed and reinforced by Esme that, even though we would never change, the world around us would and every ten years or so, we would dress in the latest culture's attire and take a real family photo. That particular shot was right at the beginning of the 90's and, I say this perfectly comfortable in my masculinity, the fashion world was finally getting back on its feet.

She carefully outlined each one of our faces with tip of her pinkie, mentally listing the defining qualities of each one. Flipping it over as tentatively as she had opened, she read each of the names written there, matching it with the appropriate face, her lips vibrating softly in mumbled conversation with herself all the while.

I watched her warily as she held the likenesses up, so they were parallel with my face, and a minuscule frown envelop her face.

_None of you look remotely the same. At all. I know you're all adopted, but could you be anymore different._

"We are all very different, you're very correct there, but that's what makes us such a family, or allows us to function as one. It's all balance. While none of us are alike and we do clash rather often, it's our differences that have bound us as one rather than the similarities that forced us together in the first place. We complete each other."

She looked back up to my face with a queer expression; like she was finally seeing me for the first time.

_So much more beautiful than his face _she thought and sighed out loud.

I was going to argue, but I really didn't have the strength and allowed myself an almost-glare in her general direction.

She dusted off a piece of floor with the bottom of her skirt and placed the picture down there, so it was still in her line of vision; she was totally engrossed in their faces despite herself.

She picked back up the wallet and straightened the one other photograph in it. The shock upon its viewing almost made her drop it, but she clung to it with tenacious fingers, refusing to let her eyes wander for an instant. She finally found what she had been searching for.

I, on the other hand, clamped my eyes shut and rooted my fingers around my ears. My teeth started to grind together and I desperately attempted to distract myself by humming. Anything to prepare for the impending onslaught.

Lida silently memorized Bella's face, but more importantly, at least form her point of view, my true smile.

_Relax_ I heard. _You both need this._

**A/n: I won't make anymore promises about updates that I can't keep, but I'll try my hardest to find time to write. Review please!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/n: I had some time, so I finished this up for you guys. Hope you enjoy. Oh, and p.s. Today is my birthday and it would be really cool if you guys reviewed for me ;) (I'm completely serious about the birthday bit. I'm 14 today)**

Chapter 11

Previously: _Lida silently memorized Bella's face, but more importantly, at least form her point of view, my true smile._

_Relax_I heard_You both need this._

I guess it really shouldn't have shocked me anymore; it should have lost it's completely disarming affect. 

I had accepted long ago that there was more than a slight probability that I was insane, even before Bella had entered my life.

I was a hundred and four year old, blood drinking vampire who heard multiple voices in his head. Constantly. So these delusions, these voices, they really shouldn't surprise or scare me, and, if it was anyone else, they wouldn't. I was sure of that because I lived with it everyday.

But this wasn't _someone_; far from it.

This was my baby. This was my baby, my friend, my teacher, my angel, and my savior. This was the solitary reason I walked this earth and tolerated this non-life. This was the love I would always have, the one that would fill me, throughout my entire, disgusting being; always calm my mightiest fear. This was my everything speaking and what other choice did I have except to listen?

My eyes flew open and I breathed a sigh of relief, waiting for her to speak again. When I only received Lida's quiet remarks, I began to panic.

"Say it again," I whispered to the empty air around me. "Say anything … _please_."

I closed my eyes hurriedly, trying to focus solely on that voice, straining my ears to pick up the slightest vibrations, the quietest voice.

Silence.

"Talk to me Bella," I commanded, but there was no reply.

I sunk further into the ground until I was completely sprawled across the wood paneling that could have easily been mistaken as a dirt floor, arms shading me from looking at anything except my nothing.

"What are you doing, Edward?" Lida asked.

I carefully lifted my left forearm, regarding her closely as I poked one of my eyes out from under my shield.

"Don't you mean Logan?" I asked, trying futilely to hold onto the lie, for reasons I couldn't really justify, even to myself.

She smiled, almost devilishly.

"No, Edward. I do believe I meant to call you Edward when I asked you what you were doing … Edward," she replied in a sickly sweet voice, normally reserved for pets and newborns newborns, as she waved the picture in my face. 

I quickly tried to avoid the happy faces on the front, my eyes shying away from the reminders. Instead, clearly printed on the back, I saw _Bella Swan and Edward Cullen Summer 2005_, written in Bella's slanted handwriting.

"Ah," I muttered, and replaced my arm back over my eyes.

I loved that picture, no denying that. It was almost ripped in two from the many scars of my folding and unfolding, constantly looking at the face, pleading with selfish half to not return to her. Studying her, it was easy to convince myself how unworthy I was; the beauty, the pure humanity, practically oozing from her smile was proof enough of that. 

But, these past weeks … I think it was weeks, it had taken up a newer and much more agonizing occupation.

Lately, I would find myself staring, losing myself in the torture of her face in the picture, knowing I could never see her in front of me again. It had become almost a game. Let's see just how far you can tear yourself open this time. Let's just see how far you'll let the longing take you, before you go groveling back. Part me liked the pain; I knew I deserved this. 

I sometimes felt like I was on a bungee cord. Allowing my self to free fall, farther away from Bella, my family, everything, and then, abruptly being lurched backward, back to all of them, without my permission. 

It was like gravity; I naturally was pulled back to my world, the biggest and brightest star in my sky, without any conscious effort on my part.

I once found myself driving, just driving as a distraction. I didn't pay attention to the road or the other drivers because they didn't matter; nothing mattered in my future because everything I had to live for was safely tucked away in the past. Who _cared_ about now? Besides, there was no now anymore. Just nothing.

I was driving and it didn't occur to me until after I had crossed Oregon's border the direction I was headed. I swerved the stolen rental off the road, nearly colliding with a senior citizen in a Plymouth Neon. 

All I had to do was think about her, and a magnet force pulled me toward my other half in that dreary town against my will … or maybe it was with my will, the one I had been denying. Either way, there was no chance she was leaving my thoughts anytime soon, so from then on I had tried to stay alert, away from things that would tempt me with her siren's call.

"Edward," Lida rescued me out of my thoughts, all traces of sarcasm gone, "Edward, I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

I gently extracted my head from its protective bubble and stared at her for a few moments before responding, trying to gage her reaction before hand. She had handled everything extremely well so far; granted we had just skimmed the surface, but I really didn't want to be the sole cause of demolishing another innocent woman's life … Insane indeed.

"I keep hearing her," I said quietly, yet still clearly, ensuring she heard every word.

She stared back for a few seconds, trying to register what she was hearing before she answered.

I watched her brow furrow, lips pouted a little wider, as she pointed at Bella's face in the photograph.

"This her?"

I felt one corner of my mouth turn up before I could stop it and nodded wanly.

Her eyes flicked back to the picture, then right back to me.

"You mean you're hearing her … thoughts?" the words came out slowly at first, like a dripping faucet, and then they came gushing out in torrents, one question after another. "Is that bad? Why is that bad? How does that work, I mean? Is it weird hearing her most private thoughts? What does my mind sound like? How-"

"Lida!" I exclaimed just quiet enough to not bring attention to us from downstairs.

"Sorry," she muttered, with a sheepish smile on her face. _I really am, you know._

"Yeah, I know," I mumbled, just as repentant as her.

"I hear the thoughts passing through your head as you hear them yourself. Sometimes, I know it may not even seem like there is anyone _talking_ to you, but that's how I receive it. It normally sounds just like the person's speaking voice, like they are speaking to me. Your mind is quite interesting actually. 

"I think you've … built up a wall or something like that, like you are blocking everything out, even yourself. It makes the voice seem very quiet, more like a brush of a wind; even silence sometimes. Its nice sometimes, no interruptions, and other times, it sort of … scares me. I have to watch you when you're not talking directly to me, to see if you're breathing, to convince myself you are alive." I said using only one breath. 

She looked away from me to stare numbly at the floor by her feet. It was too much. I'd done it again. 

Suddenly, an encroaching grin over took her face.

"That was one of the best compliments I've gotten in a while, Edward. Thank you," she practically sang.

I chuckled, despite myself. 

"What's with the sudden fixation with my name, huh?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "It makes me feel like I know you a little better, I guess. Like I'm finally getting past _your_ wall, Edward," with a piercing gaze that I couldn't possibly meet right then.

"Besides," she said after a few moments of silence; I could still feel her eyes burning a hole through my temple.

"You look much more like an _Edward_ than a Logan. Edward just sounds more … refined; sort of like you."

"Thank you," I murmured, aware of that almost glare she was still radiating. With that in mind, her soft tone caught me off guard.

"Why did you even feel the need to lie about something like that? It's just a name, what difference does it make?"

I forced myself to look at her, straight in the eyes. There was so much sadness and pity there, I could hardly stand it. But that almost felt good, too. She had lost so much … and I had, too. She truly understood. 

No. She could never really understand, not completely. She was a human and I was a vampire; she might as well have tried to empathize with tortoise, we were utterly opposite species. I took a deep breath, taking in her scent, a brief reminder of exactly what I am.

"I told you my name is Logan because I don't _feel_ like Edward anymore. Edward was left long behind in Forks, Washington, with her. This, _me_, this isn't Edward anymore because I can't be Edward without Bella. This is empty. This is nothing. This is all I have left," I replied with as much dignity and composure as I could manage. 

_That's what that was, then._

"What was what, then?" I whispered, slightly irritated.

She smiled a little, only half of her heart in it.

"Edward. That was Edward," she said simply.

When she saw the pure confusion on my face, she amended. "When you hear her, something about you, not just your face, all of you, transforms. You look like a different person. I was just thinking that is probably the Edward you've been talking about. Hey, you never answered my first question, Edward. Are you hearing her thoughts or are you just crazy?" she rambled with a coy smile.

After mulling that over quickly, I shook my head and chuckled again. I was really getting used to this girl. I was more comfortable than I had been in months.

"No. I think I'm just crazy," returning her smile half-heartedly.

She offered me her small, scarred hand and grinned again.

"Well, then. Welcome to the club."

**A/n: So there it is. Pwease review. For my birthday. 'Cmon, you know you wanna …**


	12. Chapter 12

A/n: Mhm

**A/n: Mhm. I suck. I know. Anyways, I read through the story again and I realized something I guess I was subconsciously doing. At the beginning, I was glued to the thesaurus, trying to find words that sounded more Edward-ish, but not so much anymore; too time consuming. **

**If you hadn't noticed, Edward's, umm, … mental health, lets say, is getting much worse rather than better, so I think that's the cause of the lack of vocabulary. I don't think he has the strength anymore, if that makes any sense. Whatever. On to the chapter!**

Chapter 12

_She offered me her small, scarred hand and grinned again._

"_Well, then. Welcome to the club."_

I could feel my eyebrows elevate and my mouth turn up into a smirk as I shook my head.

"Only you could refer to your sanity or, rather, lack-there-of with such …" and I looked back down at the hand she still had outstretched. Even in the gloom, I could make out the tangle of veins at the bend of her wrist, pulsating slightly. Deliciously.

I reached out and grasped her fingers, using my other arm to push on the joint of her elbow. The almost infinitesimal amount of pressure left her entire arm fully extended, the veins standing proudly atop flesh, thoroughly pronounced.

She let out the breath she had been holding and the air around the tiny room was suddenly permeated with a delectable citrus aroma. It made my head swim and I started to drown in the pool of venom collecting in the back of my mouth.

"Mmm," I sighed, as I traced the highway of blood in her forearm, traveling upward toward her shoulder. The sensation of each beat on my index finger tingled; I could feel my mind start to retreat inside itself as I angled my head downward.

_I could die right now and it would be alright._

I froze for a fraction of a second before launching myself across the room.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I berated myself as I tried to pulverize my forehead with my fist. I let it happen again. I lost control. I was going to kill her. And do you know what the worst damn part of it was? The part that made me want to gag, or spit, or throw myself into a raging, searing fire? She wouldn't have minded.

She would have forgiven me. This small creature not five feet from where I sat, this little girl whose life had barely had a chance to begin, she wanted to _die_ with a passion that rivaled my own. It was too familiar. Too much like Bella and her monstrous aspirations. I wouldn't be able to satisfy either of their dreams, I guess.

I forced myself to look at her, really look at her.

"I'm so sorry, Lida," I finally managed to whisper, "So sorry." I looked down at my hands, ashamed.

"Hey," she soothed. I suddenly realized how much I missed my mother. I would call Esme soon. "I forgive you."

"Why? How can you forgive me?" I was no longer embarrassed as my voice shook. "I just almost killed you. Part of me still wants too."

"Simple, Edward." I tried to slide away as she inched forward, but she caught up with me when I reached the end of the wall. She looked me in the eye as she grabbed my head and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. "Because you deserve it. More than anyone else I know."

"You can't know that," I said, shaking my head, "You don't know what I've done or –"

"Well," she started, cutting me off. "Why don't you finish your story so I can finally come to my senses?" she said with a refreshing tinge of sarcasm and just a hint of impatience.

I stared back down at our entwined hands, trying to look at them, not as something to eat, but as something to hold. Still clasping it, I stroked the smooth back, marveling at the life pounding through it. I kissed her hand once, with my eyes closed, and looked back up at her grinning.

She rolled her eyes hugely and swiftly reclaimed her arm. I might have actually believed that she was offended I hadn't happened to notice a faint blush fading from her cheeks.

"Flattery will get you no where, Edward," she said with her eyes narrowed slightly. "But I certainly don't see how it would make you such a bad person where you can feel justified in life sentencing yourself to a living Hell."

I looked at her wearily, preparing to detach myself from whatever horrors I was to unleash from Lida. I slid away from her form and lifted up my hands in warning when she tried to follow. I couldn't look her in the eyes when I was ready to speak.

"What if …" I readjusted my seating and stared blankly at my hands. "What if I told you told that I killed not just one person, but many people?"

Her silence seemed to beckon me to continue forward and it was like a dam had been broken inside of my brain. I was unplugged, or possibly, had plugged something in, and I just couldn't stop_ talking._

"What if I told you that I killed people, not with knives or guns or even my hands! but with my teeth? What if I told you that I took away hundreds, thousands, of children from their mothers, just like he took Julian from you? And I tried to make sense out of it to myself. Sense! I reasoned 'Oh, they were going to steal that poor woman's purse. Wait, they were going to hit their children. Oops, he was going to rape his ex-girlfriend because he couldn't her go.'

"But you can't make sense out of murder." I shook my head back and forth several times like a drunken man in a stupor. "Not when they never stood a chance as soon as I chose them for my next meal."

I finally looked her in the eyes and there was nothing there. No fear. No anger. No pity. Nothing. That just made me keep going. I slumped closer to the floor and stopped ranting, though. Now I was speaking to Lida.

I continued in a small whisper.

"What if I told you that I fell in love with a girl whom I could never be with and who I put in constant danger everyday she was with me?" My breathing came in short gasps and her eyes began to tear.

"What- what if I told you that on her 18th birthday, the birthday she hated because it made her physically one year older than me, I forced her to attend a surprise party with my family? What if I told you that she got a simple paper cut opening the gift I made for her, and my own brother became deranged and tried to attack her? What if I told you-" I took one deep breath and ran a single hand over my face, "- that I told her she was a distraction, that I never really loved her, just so she would be able to let go?"

"…What if I told you I was a vampire?"

I forced my eyes to focus in on her face again. "What part of me can you honestly say deserves your forgiveness?"

She looked so sad now. She didn't appear like she was going to answer, much like I expected, until I heard her think with conviction.

_I can't excuse this._ She tapped her forehead lightly with two fingers. _But this …_ She rubbed small circles over the left side of her chest with her palm. "Sorry" in sign language even if she didn't realize it. _This, I can forgive_.

I could feel the muscles in my face spasm and release as my eyes darted terrified around the room. Sobs.

"_Why_?" I finally let out the strangled word. The one thing I had wanted to say since I met Lida.

"Why?" she repeated, skeptical.

She lifted herself onto her knees and shuffled until her face was hovering just inches from my own. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. She placed one warm hand on my cheek and used to other to comb through my rumpled hair. I wished I could cry.

"Porque, mi amigo estimado, te amo. _Because, my dear friend, I love you._"

Her smile shone through the gloom as the tears stained her face; she hiccupped lightly.

"You are the son I almost had."

**A/n: (Offers cyber tissues)**


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